‘So how did you know something was wrong? If you don’t mind my asking.’

Kat pulled a face. ‘Changes, which I have no wish to go into. Blood in the stool,’ she went on breezily nonetheless, ‘– as the doctors so delicately like to call it – being one of the many highlights, together with “going” too much, or not at all. Little wonder I was in no hurry to discuss it with our GP. But then Howard said I was an idiot and he was right. I like my husband.’ She grinned, leaning down to retrieve a pillow from the floor and slapping Eleanor’s hand away when she leapt out of the chair to try to help. ‘Sorry, but I just don’t want a fuss. Everybody is fussing and it’s driving me fucking nuts.’

Eleanor leant against the wall by the bed while Kat settled herself. Spotting their father’s old Bible on the bedside table, she picked it up, absently riffling through its pages. ‘And how are the children?’

Kat’s face lit up, as if a bulb had been turned on inside her. ‘Fantastic, thanks. Little monsters all. Annoying. Demanding. Wonderful. Luke has gone geeky and has a quiff and a last word for everything. Sophie is in love with horses, I think she would literally marry one if she could. And Evie… well, Evie is just Evie.’ She sighed dreamily. ‘On her own planet, as every seven-year-old should be.’

‘Her asthma?’ Eleanor ventured, painfully aware of how little she really knew of her sister’s family life, the result of years of learned wariness, the age-old sense of being kept at arm’s length.

‘Oh, that’s all gone. She grew out of it. Thank God.’ Kat picked up a glossy swatch of her hair and scrutinised the ends. ‘So, will you be visiting Dad? Kill two birds with one stone. So to speak.’ Her sharp blue eyes flicked from Eleanor’s face to the Bible in her hands, dancing but steely.

‘I’ve come to see you, not him,’ Eleanor replied levelly, putting the book down. As she did so an old empty envelope dropped out of its back pages. Scrawled across it in the big spider writing that Eleanor immediately recognised as having once flowed from their father’s gold-tipped desk fountain pen was a note to their mother: Darling Connie, it said, came home for a 10-min lunch. I love you. Vx.

‘Hey, look at this.’ She held the note out to Kat.

Her sister nodded. ‘Yes, it’s been there, like, for ever.’

‘Has it? Oh, okay.’ Eleanor gently replaced the envelope, giving the book a pat as she closed it shut. A part of her waited to see if Kat said anything about their mother, whilst knowing she wouldn’t, because she never did. ‘It’s nice though, isn’t it?’ she prompted. ‘Given what happened… well, it can make one forget the good things.’